


let's have another toast (to the girl almighty)

by BookPirate



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Constantine (Movie) Fusion, F/M, Minor Violence, basically sorry i'm trash, bellamy is angela, clarke is constantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5656072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookPirate/pseuds/BookPirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin has been called many names: exorcist, demonologist, asshole. There's a line of humans, devils, and angels who would probably rather she just up and die already, but unfortunately she's got to prevent the son of Satan from taking over the Earth before that can happen.</p><p>And it's all thanks to Bellamy Blake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's have another toast (to the girl almighty)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not gonna say you need to have seen the movie Constantine (it's on Netflix!) but it'll probably make more sense if you have. Not that the movie makes a whole lot of sense anyways, but whatever. Keanu Reeves and Rachel Weisz are awesome.
> 
> Also I couldn't kill off anyone, because they get enough shit in the show. #ProtectThe1002k16
> 
> Title from 'Girl Almighty' by 1D

To say that Clarke is having a shitty day would be an understatement at the least. She's had two exorcisms back to back, both on small children, and a knock-out, drag-down fight with some half-breed that decided today was a good day to pick a fight with her. Oh, and she discovered she was going to die within the next year, so, really, a shitty day doesn't even cover it.

Her mother had always told her those cigarettes would be the death of her, but Clarke had always figured she'd be killed before the cancer got to her, so the point was moot.

But, apparently not.

So, she's drowning her sorrows in a bottle of bourbon she's kept hidden in the back of her freezer. Raven would probably come upstairs and join her if she asked, but that's not a conversation she wants to have tonight. Which leaves her alone, and three glasses in, when someone knocks insistently on her door.

She stills instantly, as if whoever's on the other side of her thick oak door will go away if she stops moving. She holds her breath, and starts counting silently. At the count of ten, the person knocks again, and Clarke huffs, standing up. Her friends, if they can be called that, leave if she doesn't answer the door, or don't stop knocking until she comes, so she knows it's none of them, and the symbols of protection she'd carved into the doorframe aren't glowing, so it's not an enemy, which means it's an annoyance.

She opens the door just enough so she can see the person on the other side. "What?" she snaps.

A pair of warm brown eyes in a handsome, hard edged face widen in surprise, before a cool mask slips into place. "Clarke Griffin?"

She feels a twinge of warmth in her lower belly, something she hasn't felt since Lexa. It catches her off guard, and annoys her further. "Who wants to know?"

"LAPD," he says as he flashes her a badge. "Can I ask you some questions?"

"Not really in an answering mood," Clarke says. "I've had kind of a shitty day."

"Cool, me, too." The cool mask is starting to slip, and the cop looks vaguely annoyed. "So, maybe you could just listen."

She sighs and opens the door further, sardonically bowing as he passes by her. She slams the door shut behind him, and moves to refill her drink. "Alright, Officer, talk." When he's silent, she looks back over at him, sees him scrutinizing her apartment, the symbols carved into the doorframe. "If you want," she says a little more loudly, to get his attention, "you could start with your name."

"It's Detective, actually," he finally answers, his gaze snapping back to hers. "My name is Bellamy Blake, and I need your help."

She sits and tips back in her chair. He seems to be going for a dramatic flair, but she doesn't have time for it. "You're going to have to be more specific."

He glares at her, sits down across the table from her. "My sister is missing." He glances at her bottle. "You gonna offer me some of that?"

"No." She sips at her drink, watches his scowl. "Continue."

He does, but doesn't stop looking at her like he wants to kill her. He can get in line. "She was locked up in solitary, at Mount Weather. She had been ranting about angels and demons, and not being safe. She was being sedated, getting some help," his jaw ticks, "until I got a call this morning, and she was gone." He drops his gaze to the table for a beat or two, and when he looks back up, his gaze is a little less murderous, and a little more anxious. "I reviewed the security tapes, but she's only seen on camera in one hallway, for five seconds, before disappearing. She mouthed your name, in those five seconds." He shifts closer to her, leans across the table. "I need to know why."

Clarke sighs, and tilts her head to the side as she considers him. "What's your sister's name?"

"Octavia Blake."

She hums, lets him fidget for a few seconds, before standing up. "Look, I'm really sorry about your sister, Detective, but I don't know who she is, or why she would know who I am, or, really, how I could help."

"That's bullshit." He stands up, too. "I know who you are, Clarke Griffin. I know the circles you run in. The occult, exorcisms, demonology, all sorts of weird shit." He takes a step closer to her, towering over her, even though he can't be more than four or five inches taller. "Like I said, she wouldn't stop trying to warn me about the angels and demons, and I think maybe she was kidnapped by some cult for it. The least you could do is check it out, or tell me what to do."

"Yeah, sure." She takes another sip of her drink. "You should leave."

"Fuck you," he snarls, and makes sure to slam the door extra hard behind him.

She sits back down, and drinks the rest of her glass in one go. As she refills her drink again, however, she hears it, the telltale sign of the supernatural descending. "Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me!" she groans, grabbing her jacket and slipping on her shoes before racing out the door. She hears the sound of the building door slam shut below her, and she curses again, racing down the stairs three at a time. She bolts out the front door and on to the deserted street, where Bellamy is walking away, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stares at the ground. She sprints up to him, startles him with a quiet, "Detective."

"What?" he snaps, picking up his pace, as if that's going to deter Clarke. He obviously doesn't know her.

"What if I told you there was a standing bet between God and the Devil? For all the souls of humankind?" she asks quickly, watching him but also watching the air around him. The supernatural usually take any weak moment to jump out.

He snorts derisively. "I'd tell you to stay on your meds."

She huffs a laugh in surprise, caught off-guard by his sharp tongue. "Just, humor me, okay?"

He watches her from the corner of his eye. "Fine. Go ahead."

"The only rule would be no direct contact with humans. Influence, sure, but anything direct disqualifies them."

He interrupts her. "Why?"

"Because they're bored, for shits and giggles, because they can," she says. "Pick one."

"You think it's _funny_ when people kill other people, when husbands beat their wives, when kids are abandoned by their parents?" he asks incredulously, slowing down as they reach what she can only assume is his car. "The Devil doesn't do shit here. It's people who are evil, who do this to each other."

"I'm not arguing with you there. Humans are awful," she pauses when he stops, and meets his gaze, "but sometimes something else comes along, and gives us just the right nudge," then, adds more quietly, "and I hear it works both ways."

He considers her, before pulling out his car key. "Well, this has been really educational, but," he pauses, unlocks his car, "I don't believe in the Devil."

Clarke can hear them coming, faint but drawing ever closer, and grabs the arm that's reaching for the door. "You should. He believes in you."

He looks baffled, and opens his mouth after a few beats to say something, but is cut off by the lights on the block going off rapidly, one by one. "What the hell? A power outage?"

But Clarke sees the Virgin Mary still lit up in the store across the street. Things like that are always the last to go. "Probably not." His car locks, and she tugs on his sleeve. "Come on." But he's slow as he follows her across the street, to the Virgin Mary. The sound of wings is growing louder, and the street is getting darker.

"What is that?" he asks.

"Wings," she says as she pats down her pockets, "maybe talons." She finds part of the shroud she keeps in her jacket, wraps her hand in it.

He doesn't look like he believes her. "Of what?"

"Something that isn't supposed to be here." The wind is picking up as Clarke tries to find her lighter. One of the beasts in the swarm swoops a little too low, and Bellamy ducks instinctively, pulling out his gun. She sees it and is tempted to laugh. "That really isn't going to help. Put it away before you shoot me."

"You got a better idea?" he snaps.

Finally, her fingers brush against the gold lighter in her pants' pocket. "Actually, yeah. Now, close your eyes."

"Why?" he demands, even as the area around them gets darker and darker.

"So many damn questions with you," she mutters. "Suit yourself."

She lights the shroud on fire, and shoves it in the face of the first demon who's swooped down towards them. The light is bright and blinding, and even she's having trouble seeing as she swipes it back and forth, until they've all turned to ash. The shroud burns her hand, so she quickly drops it, stomps on the flame as the lights turn back on. She thinks back to the conversation she'd had with Lincoln earlier. "Bullshit the balance is fine, asshole," she mutters to no one in particular, wandering out into the middle of the street, checking to see if the coast is clear. The sound of Bellamy's retching pull her back, however, and she pats him on the back as he vomits at the feet of the Virgin Mary. "Don't worry, it happens to everyone the first few times. It's the sulfur."

"What were those things?" he demands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Clarke pats her pockets, looking for something to give him, before realizing she burnt the last piece of the shroud she had. She pulls out a cigarette instead, and lights it. "Demons," she says, after she's taken a drag, "you know, the kind your sister talked about."

"No, that's fucking impossible. This is fucking impossible." His eyes are wild and crazy.

She takes another drag. "Yeah, pretty much." She blows out the smoke, inhales more. "Here's the thing, though. I don't think they were here for me."

He calms down at that, confusion overwhelming panic. "What?"

She ignores his question. "So, you said you had security tapes of your sister in Mount Weather?"

"Yeah, why?"

She takes the last drag of her cigarette. "We're going to need them."

* * *

 

Raven wrenches open the door after the first knock. "What?" she snaps, before she sees Clarke. "Oh, it's you."

"Nice to see you, too," Clarke says.

Raven, who might be the only person she seriously considers a friend, rolls her eyes and brings her in for a hug before she sees Bellamy standing awkwardly in the hallway. "And who's this?" she asks, releasing Clarke.

"Detective Bellamy Blake, LAPD," he answers, before Clarke can stop him.

Raven turns back to her friend. "What the hell are you doing with a cop?" she demands. "And why did you bring him _here_?"

"Relax," Clarke assures her, "he's off duty." She snatches the badge out of his hand and shoves it in her pocket. "See? All gone."

Raven just gives a little 'hmf!' and turns on her heel, walking back into the apartment. Clarke goes to follow, but Bellamy stops her. "I'm going to need that back."

"Not right now you don't." She raises an eyebrow at him. "You asked for my help, this is how you're going to get it. What's it gonna be?"

He glares at her and steps back to let her go ahead of him. She represses a smirk as they join Raven in her living room-turned-lab. The brunette in question is tapping away at a computer. "So I assume you need my help with something."

"It's because I brought the boy, isn't it?"

Raven snorts. "More like because you never visit me unless you want something. I always have to go to you."

"At least I have a usable dining table," Clarke snarks, pointing to the table in question, which is currently covered with everything from papers to gadgets to vials of holy water.

"Touche." Raven looks away from the computer screen. "Well, show me what you got."

Bellamy hands the DVD over to Raven. "I'm looking for my sister. This is the last time she was seen."

"I didn't know you did missing persons cases, Griffin," Raven remarks dryly, as she slides the DVD in. "Nice to see you expanding your business."

Clarke rolls her eyes, but snaps to attention once Raven pulls the video up. Bellamy clears his throat a little. "She shows up 23 minutes in."

Raven fast-forwards, and then goes slow. A girl, who can't be more than 22 or 23, is walking slowly down an empty corridor in what is clearly Mount Weather. She stops about halfway up the hall, right in front of the camera. She looks directly into it, mouths something, which does look an awful lot like Clarke's name, smiles, waves, and then is _taken_.

"Shit," Clarke swears.

Raven spins to look at Clarke. "What the hell is going on? Why didn't you tell me -"

"Tell her what?" Bellamy demands.

"I didn't know." Clarke ignores Bellamy. "I didn't fucking know."

"Know what?" Bellamy shouts. "Tell me what you're talking about!"

Clarke and Raven both look at Bellamy, and then at each other, before Clarke turns to Bellamy. "Look, do you have something of your sister's? That she's really strongly attached to?"

He shoves up his sleeve, so they can see a red ribbon wrapped around his wrist. "Will her hair tie do? They wouldn't let her take it with her to solitary, so I promised I'd watch it for her. She wore it every day before that."

"Perfect. Raven, can you get Wick?"

"He can be here in fifteen," Raven answers, reaching for her phone. "I'll call him."

"Will you please tell me what's going on?" Bellamy asks, desperate.

"Look, I don't know yet exactly is going on with your sister, but, um," she runs a hand over her face, "it looks like she had a friend in a high place."

"What do you mean?"

"When she disappears? On the video? There's a flash of light. You didn't mention that."

He scoffs. "How is a security camera glitch important?"

"It may look like a glitch to you, but to those of us who can see? That's a powerful being taking your sister."

"What are you talking about?" Bellamy runs his fingers through his curls, tugging on them. "What is going on?"

Clarke takes a deep breath in before exhaling, craving a cigarette. "Come on, let's go to the balcony." He follows her silently, stepping out onto the ledge from the window, watching while she lights a cigarette. She takes a drag before she tells him, "You have to humor me again."

"Because that worked out so great last time." He cracks a smile, and she laughs.

The warmth is trickling back in, in her lower belly, but she figures that's okay. "Don't worry. I don't hear anything coming." The statement is true, but it also sobers her up. "Um, so I know this sounds crazy, but," she sighs, "my entire life, I've been able to see things, things humans don't normally see. I got the ability from my dad, because these things tend to run in families, so I was better off than some, because my dad helped me deal with it," Clarke swallows thickly, "but then he died."

Bellamy doesn't say anything, but he does put his hand on hers, the one not holding the cigarette, which she thinks must count for something.

"His death opened up my eyes, really opened them up. He had been protecting me from a lot of it, because I was only a kid, but," she sighs, puffing on her cigarette, "kids have to grow up some time."

"What happened?" His voice is soft and gentle, and she wants to wrap herself up in it.

She ignores that feeling, takes a drag, and continues, "You have to understand, we're smack dab in the middle of Heaven and Hell, on a different plane, true, but they're still there. True angels and demons, they can't cross over onto our plane. So, instead, we get what I call half-breeds. They're the ones who can whisper in your ear, influence you in this wager God and the Devil have going. Half-angels and half-demons, living among us. They call it the balance, being evenly spread out among us." She finishes her cigarette, tosses the butt onto the street below them, and lights another one. "I call it hypocritical bullshit. My father believed in the balance, and tried to keep the peace, and when he died, they thought that's what I'd do, too." She takes a drag with a twisted smirk. "They were wrong. Now, whenever one of them breaks the balance, I send them straight back to hell, no more of this fight-mediation bullshit my dad tried to make work."

"And you can't just walk away?"

Her spine stiffens. "I've been, um, trying to ensure my afterlife, I guess."

"Why do you need to?"

She takes a long drag before answering. "I killed myself, once."

His voice is incredulous. "But you're here."

"Officially dead for two minutes." She finishes her cigarette and faces him. "That's all it takes. When you're in Hell, time stops, so two minutes was all I needed. I never want to go back."

His face is open, sympathetic, as he squeezes the hand she forgot he was holding. It's a nice feeling, but unfortunately she can't dwell on it. Raven sticks her head out the window. "Come on, Wick is here."

They quickly climb inside, and are greeted by the man in question. He smirks when he sees them. "Hey, Griffin."

"Wick," she replies. "Got something for you."

"So I hear." His smirk falters. "Hey, are you feeling okay?"

She ignores him. "Alright, Bellamy, go ahead and give him your sister's ribbon."

Bellamy hands it over wordlessly, and Wick wraps it around his hand. "Okay, let's see what we've got." He pulls out a chain with a pendant on it, slips it over his head, and hands it to Raven. "Take care of this." He then pulls a chair from the cluttered table in the center of the room, and sits down, running his fingers over the ribbon in his palm. His eyes roll back in his head, leaving them completely white.

"What the -" Bellamy starts to say, but Clarke claps a hand over his mouth, and gives him a look to keep quiet.

"Octavia," Wick says, his voice hoarse. "Octavia, Octavia, Octavia. She knew, she knew. Being hunted, needed protection. Bellamy, no one believes her. Searching, searching. The Bible, the Bible, the Bible. She found it, she found it, she found it." He gasps, drawing in a painful breath, and then smoke starts rising from his palm, so Clarke immediately springs into action, taking a vial of the holy water Monty and Jasper had given her, and smashing it on Wick's hand. Raven takes the opportunity to slip the pendant back over Wick's head, who sags in his chair, and lets the ribbon drop from his palm. "Corinthians 17:1, Clarke."

"But Corinthians doesn't have a 17th act." Bellamy turns to Clarke in confusion.

"It does in the Bible in hell," Raven answers for her, pulling down a thick black book from the single bookshelf in the room. "Corinthians has 21 acts."

"You've got to be shitting me." Bellamy runs his hand through his hair again. "You people do this for a living?"

Clarke peers over Raven's shoulder as she flips through the book. "Someone has to. What's it say?"

"Fuck, this is bad." Raven runs her finger over the page. "The sins of the father would only be exceeded by the sins of the son."

"That's impossible." Clarke scrubs a hand over her face, reaches for a cigarette before she remembers Raven refuses to let her smoke in the apartment. "He can't cross over."

"Whose son? God's son?" Bellamy asks incredulously.

"The Devil had a son, too," Wick says quietly, from where he's still bent over in his chair. "Cage."

Raven studies the page intently, before rushing over to the computer. "I need to see the video again."

She finds Octavia quickly, and slows it down to as slow as it can go. Clarke watches carefully. As Octavia waves, she sees it. "Stop it, there."

"Holy shit," Raven breathes.

"What is it?" Bellamy demands, rushing over.

Raven zooms in to Octavia's wrist. There's a mark on her arm, a cross with a circle. "The sign of Cage. Your sister was marked."

"For what?" Bellamy looks somewhat hysterical. "Answer me, goddamnit!"

Wick stands up, walks to the Bible still lying open on the table. "The book says Cage has no patience for his father's rule, that he wants to forge the world into his own kingdom of fire and blood."

"But you said demons can't cross over, right?" Bellamy turns to Clarke. "So we're safe?"

"Not quite," Wick answers grimly. "There's a loophole."

"Like there always is," Clarke mutters.

"It says first Cage would have to possess a very powerful psychic -"

"Octavia," Bellamy whispers. He staggers over to the chair Wick vacated and sits down, hard. "I should've believed her."

"What are you talking about?" Clarke asks, kneeling in front of him.

He scrubs his face with his hands. "Ever since we were little, Octavia was always saying how she could see things that no one else could see, like you." He lifts his face and meets Clarke's gaze. "But then, she would also say things, things that would come true. It scared our mother, so she put O on drugs, anything to get her to stop. She had a meltdown, and had to be hospitalized at the age of 13." He closes his eyes, drops his head. "Then, our mother died, and I got custody of her. She started asking if I believed her, and I said no. She stopped talking for a year, and she's been in and out of psych wards ever since."

Clarke feels a chill run down her spine. These things always run in families, she thinks, but pushes it to the back of her mind. "It's not your fault."

"Like hell it's not!" he snaps, jerking his head up again. "Now she's been taken by some psycho demon devil's son -"

"Hate to break up the pity party there," Raven interrupts, "but she hasn't."

"What do you mean?" he asks, twisting to look at her.

"The bright light? That's not someone being dragged down to hell," Clarke explains, as he turns to face her again, "that's someone being transported on the same plane, by someone who's at least partially a good guy. Demons tend to prefer smoke for their tricks."

Bellamy opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by a familiar sound. Raven looks at Clarke sharply. "Is that what I think it is?"

The wings are getting closer. "Shit. Grab the book," Clarke tells Wick, "we have to get upstairs." She yanks Bellamy to his feet and pulls him towards the door.

Wick grabs the book but staggers, still unsteady on his feet. Raven loops his arm around her neck and follows Clarke as they burst through the apartment door. Bellamy unholsters his gun, and asks, "Can they get inside?"

"Jesus, put that away!" Clarke snaps. "It's not going to do anything for us, except possibly accidentally kill us." He scowls at her but puts it away. She tugs him up the stairs, continuing, "And the answer to your question is yes, they can absolutely get inside. The building is protected to some extent, but my apartment is the safest, since _someone_ wouldn't let me carve the symbols into their doorway."

"This is literally the first time this has happened," Raven snaps, panting slightly under Wick's unsteady weight. "They're always after you, not me. _I'm_ not the one that deports them back to hell."

"Yeah, yeah," Clarke grumbles, unlocking the apartment door when they arrive at it. She's just gotten the door open when the hallway windows shatter. "Shit, get in!" she shouts as she shoves Bellamy through the doorway, the symbols glowing bright red. She then takes Wick from Raven and shoves him in, too. He stumbles but Bellamy catches him.

Raven refuses to go in. "What do you need?"

"I'm out of shroud," Clarke confesses, "but there's some dragon's breath in the cabinet. Grab it, and hurry."

Raven nods, and slips through the doorway. Clarke slams it shut behind her, pressing her back against it, and begins praying in Latin. She knows it won't stop them, but it should buy her enough time for Raven to grab the dragon's breath. The lights start flickering just as the door is thrown open behind her, causing her to stumble a bit. Raven shoves the tube into her hands, stepping over the threshold. "Here."

"Raven, wait -" she tries to say as she attempts to shove Raven back into the apartment, but it's too late. The hallway is swarmed, and Raven is yanked into the hallway, door slamming behind her. "Shit!"

Raven screams as demons pull her into the black. "Clarke!"

Clarke curses under her breath as she tries to avoid the talons of the demons fluttering around her, diving and trying to tear off her face. Her left cheek is gouged before she manages to pull the trigger. Flames erupt and burn through the hallway, and she can only hope Raven isn't in harms way. She's already lost too many people. She can't lose another.

Finally, the screams of dying demons quiet, and she caps the dragon's breath, hacking up a lung. It takes a second for the lights to flutter back on, but she spots Raven right away. "Raven," she chokes out, diving for her friend, buried under the ashes. She brushes the ashes off of her, even as they disappear. The brunette's eyes are closed, so Clarke starts tapping her cheek. "Come on, Raven, wake up, wake up," she pleads between coughs. When that doesn't seem to do anything, she slaps her, hard.

"Fuck me," Raven groans. Eyes fluttering open. "What the hell?"

"You're welcome," Clarke wheezes. "Are you okay?"

"No," she winces. "My leg."

Clarke looks down at it, sees it burned a bloody red. "Shit."

"How bad?" Raven asks, panting.

"Pretty bad." Clarke takes a vial of holy water out of her jacket, pours it over the damage, ignoring her own stinging face. "Better?"

"Less painful," Raven's face screws up in concentration as she tries to sit up, "but I don't think I can walk."

"I'll get Bellamy," Clarke says, before she starts coughing again.

Raven looks down at the blood that comes out of her friend's mouth. "You're dying," she says bluntly.

Clarke doesn't see any point in lying. "Yeah."

"How long?"

"Tops? A year."

"Christ." Raven runs a hand over her face. "I fucking told you."

There's no point in denying it. "Yeah, I know."

Bellamy chooses that moment to poke his head out of the apartment. "You guys okay?"

"Raven's hurt pretty badly, so I need you to come here and pick her up," Clarke tells him.

He makes sure to close the door behind him as he steps into the hallway. "Holy shit," he breathes, as he gets close enough to see what's wrong. "What the fuck happened?"

"Dragon's breath," Clarke says by way of explanation, as she helps him lift Raven.

"What?"

"So many questions with you," she mutters, opening the apartment door and ushering them inside. "Grab a knife, Wick!"

Since Clarke doesn't have a couch, Bellamy walks straight back to her bed, and lays Raven on it gently. Wick rushes over, hands her the knife. "What happened?"

"Dragon's breath," Clarke repeats as she hacks away at the left leg of Raven's pants. Raven hisses in pain as Clarke tries to peel away the ruined fabric from the ruined leg, taking another vial and sprinkling the water on the freshly revealed skin, and then finally using some for her own face. She can feel the skin stitching itself back together already.

"Shit," Wick breathes, still looking at Raven's leg, "I'll go run and get more holy water from -"

"No time," she cuts him off. "Call Monty and Jasper, have them come over. Tell them to bring some of their ointment and they'll know what to do. I think she's past holy water anyways."

"You're right," Raven grimaces as she tries to shift on the bed. "Wick, hand me the Bible so I can finish reading while you make the call."

He does as he's told, dropping a kiss to her forehead before he steps outside into the hallway. "I'll be right back."

Raven flips through the book to find Corinthians again. "Alright, so, powerful psychic, check. The next thing he would need is," she scans the page with her finger, "huh. Divine assistance."

"That makes no sense," Clarke says flatly.

"Well, that's what the book says. I can't rewrite the Bible."

"No kidding." Clarke sighs, presses her fingers to her eyes. "I'm gonna have a smoke."

Raven grabs her hand as she passes. "Hey." Clarke stops and looks at her. "It wasn't your fault."

She gives her a wry smile, gives Raven's hand a squeeze. "Yeah," she lies.

She climbs onto the balcony pretty swiftly, has a cigarette in her mouth by the time she sits down. As she takes long drags off of it, she scans the city's skyline. It never ceases to amaze her how some people will go their entire lives without knowing what she knows, what she sees on a daily basis. She watches the smoke curl out in front of her, and drift off into the air. If only she could be so lucky. Though, she supposes she is lucky. Raven could've died today, and that would've been on her. Just like Finn, the fool, and Wells, her stupid, perfect best friend.

Bellamy steps out onto the balcony. "Hey."

"Yeah?" Her voice comes out hoarser than usual.

"I, uh," he scratches the back of his neck, "I have to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"I used to see things, too." When she doesn't do anything but take another drag, he narrows his eyes. "You already knew that, though, didn't you?"

"These things tend to run in families," she reminds him, before standing up. "Go home, Bellamy. I promise you I'll get your sister back." She finishes her cigarette and tosses it over the railing. "She's not in any real danger, anyways."

"How do you know?" he demands.

She shakes her head. "Go home." He crosses his arms, so she sighs, and continues, "Look, Octavia accepted her gift, and you denied yours. Trust me, denial is always the better option. It's why you're still alive. So go home, and enjoy your life. If you stick around me long enough, you'll lose that, too. I'm a plague."

"Raven's only injured -"

"Raven will never be able to walk without assistance again," she hisses. "Besides, do you think Raven's the only person in my life that's been hurt? I wish. My father is dead, my mother, for all intents and purposes, is dead, my best friend is dead, and," she takes a deep breath, "I had to kill my ex-boyfriend. You'll be next if you stick around."

She tries to walk around him, to go back inside, but he stops her. "Clarke, my sister is gone. She disappeared off the face of the earth, and it was because I didn't support her. I need to help find her, because I need her to know she's not in this alone. I let her suffer alone. I lied and stopped seeing ghosts just because I didn't want to be like her, and I regret it." His eyes are glittering with tears. "My sister, my responsibility."

Clarke closes her eyes, takes a shaky breath. His devotion to his sister reminds her of Wells. She can almost hear him telling her to let it happen. Her eyes snap open. "If you do this," she says carefully, "there's no turning back. It's fine when you're a kid to deny your gift, but it won't work again this time, got it? You see them, they see you."

He nods, determined. "I understand."

"Okay," Clarke releases a shaky breath, "come on."

* * *

 "So, tell me again, what I have to do?" Bellamy asks. "Just for clarification purposes."

Clarke sighs, and tests the temperature of the water in Raven's bathtub. They'd moved downstairs so Raven and Wick could rest. "You're gonna get in and lie down. Water makes it easier, because it's a universal conduit."

"Okay," he says, striping off his jacket and handing her his gun. "How far should I strip?"

She blushes, looking at his torso. He gives a small cough, and when she looks up, he's smirking. "Probably your shirt," she answers.

"Uh-huh."

"Hey," she gives him a smirk of her own, "who's the expert here?"

He holds up his hands in mock surrender before stripping off his shirt. "Better?"

His torso is very, very well-defined. She sucks in a breath, tries to pretend it doesn't affect her. "Much."

He's still smirking though, so she knows he doesn't buy it. He gets in the tub without further comment though, so she begins to steel herself for what happens next. "So, all the way down?" he asks.

"All the way down," she confirms.

"For how long?"

"As long as it takes."

He gives her a funny look, but does what she's asked. She places a hand on his chest, up near his throat, helping to guide him to the bathtub floor. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, and that's when she takes the opportunity. Usually, she'd just hold the person down until it took, but since Bellamy looked like he could overturn her with ease, she's going to cheat. So she takes her thumb and presses, hard, on his jugular.

His eyes fly open, and he struggles, but Clarke knows what she's doing, so he begins to lose consciousness rapidly. She's a little worried it won't take, but then all of a sudden the bathtub explodes and sends her flying. Raven's going to kill her. When she wipes the water from her eyes and manages to get on her hands and knees, Bellamy is sitting up, drenched and muttering to himself. "I knew I could see, I knew I could see, I knew I could see. Always knew where to shoot, where to aim. Always, always, always." It's normal, but then he stops, and makes a motion with his hands, repetitively, like he's working a lighter.

Now she's worried she broke him, so she tentatively stretches a hand out towards him. "Bellamy?"

His eyes flash to her, a new light in them. "Someone was here."

And with that he's slipping and sliding on the floor, trying to gain traction as he scrambles out of the bathroom. She doesn't have much better luck when she tries to follow, a beat behind. "Wait, Bellamy!"

She finds him on the balcony, looking blankly at the floor. "Something flickering, something light, something silver, something." He drops to his knees, and bends to look under the chair, throwing his arm out beneath it. Slowly, he comes back up, playing with a lighter Clarke has seen before.

She takes it from him gently, and looks at the insignia on it. "Rhodes," she snarls, before stepping back inside.

Bellamy seems to snap out of whatever trance he was in. "Clarke?" he calls after her. "What are you doing?"

"Preparing for war," she says, as she loots through Raven's things. She finds the pieces she needs pretty quickly, as Bellamy stands and watches her.

"What about the balance?"

She shakes her head. "Bastard has it coming. If anything, I'm putting the balance back to where it should be."

"Need help?"

She gives him a feral grin. "No, I've got this."

* * *

 "Now, listen, you stay in the car," Clarke orders him.

"Bullshit, I'm staying in the car!" Bellamy snaps.

Clarke glares at him. "Remember what I said? About doing this my way?"

He holds her stare, but relents. "Fine. But, Clarke, I -"

She doesn't know what he's going to say, but doesn't want to lose her nerve, so she cuts him off by startling him, by leaning across the center divide of his car so that they're so close if she turned her head a half an inch she would be kissing him. But, she doesn't, instead clasping the chain around her neck she had been holding in her hand. She pulls back a little, and some part of her is pleased with how his pupils are blown wide. "Don't take this off, okay?" She taps the pendant hanging off of it, the one that's identical to Wick's. "Think of it as a bulletproof vest. Promise me."

"I promise," he says, his voice a little huskier than usual.

"Good." She gives him a small smile as she leaves the car. "I'll see you soon."

The building is deserted, of course, so Clarke decides to take the elevator to the floor she knows Rhodes is on. There's something pretty anti-climactic about riding an elevator when you know you're heading to a fight, she thinks. It just gives her time to ruminate on Bellamy, whom she knows she's letting get too close. It's been years since Lexa, but that ended about as well as an affair with a demon can, which is not at all. Bellamy makes her want, not just with lust, but with something that scares her. She needs to remember she doesn't deserve nice things, she reminds herself.

Finally, the bell dings, and she makes her way so she's standing on the other side of the wall she can feel Rhodes standing before. With as deep a breath as she can manage, she uncaps the dragon's breath, and lets it melt its way through the wall.

There's a small explosion and when she steps through the hole, Rhodes is on the table, laughing. "Fire? I was made of this, little girl. Don't you know what you're doing?"

She ignores the quip, focuses on cutting through the bullshit. "How's Cage crossing over you half-breed piece of shit?" She punctuates her question by throwing a vial of holy water at his face, and takes some satisfaction in seeing the flesh melt off.

He smirks, and ignores her question, too. "That's good. I look much better in my natural state, don't you think?" Before she can respond, however, he flies off the table and grips her by the throat, lifting her into the air. "Don't fight it, Clarke, my dear. You'll be home soon enough."

She rolls her eyes and struggles against him just enough to distract him as she slips her golden knuckles, etched with crosses, onto her hand. Once they're on, she swings, and gives him a mean right hook that would've dislocated his jaw, if he were human. "Fuck off, Rhodes," she says hoarsely.

He drops her in surprise and stumbles backwards, but she doesn't relent. She lands punch after punch, each one being accompanied but he sound of burning flesh. She takes some sort of grim satisfaction from it, knowing she's finally doing something about the asshole that's helped make her life hell. Finally, she uppercuts him, and he lands back on the table. She crawls on top of it, too, and leverages herself to give him another punch, breathing heavily.

"We'll see you very soon," he promises, voice raspy. "It's only a matter of time."

"I don't think so," she says, as she grabs her pocket Bible out of her coat.

"You can't cheat it this time, you know. You're going back to hell."

"You're right about that," she agrees, flipping through the Bible, "but you're not."

He looks very confused. "What are you doing?"

"Reading you your last rites."

He scoffs. "Please. You're not ordained."

"You don't need to be ordained to give someone their last rites," she says, bluffing. "Man, a demon in heaven. Sounds like a party." She makes the sign of the cross on his forehead.

"I don't believe God would let you of all people help others get into heaven," he spits.

She grabs the lapels of his jacket and pulls him closer. "Just tell me how Cage is crossing over, fucker, and I'll send you back to hell instead." He looks away from her, so she drops him. "Alright, but remember, you asked for it."

She starts reading the passages, trying to inflict as much authority into her voice as possible. Apparently it works, because it isn't long before he cries out, "Wait! It's the blood of God, okay?"

"The Spear?" she asks, a little thrown.

"Of Destiny," he finishes. "Whatever killed the son of God will give birth to the son of the Devil."

She turns the information around in her head. "Alright, thanks, Rhodey." She tucks the Bible and the knuckles back into her jacket and jumps off the table. "By the way, you have to ask for absolution to be forgiven, asshole." She picks up her dragon's breath gun from where it fell, and walks towards the door.

His laughter, however, stops her dead in her tracks. "My work here is done," he chokes out.

"What are you talking about?" she demands, spinning around to look at him.

"He was my only mission -" he tells her with a grin, pointing towards the doorway.

Clarke turns and sees Bellamy cautiously entering the room, gun drawn. "For fuck's sake," Clarke snaps.

"- and you brought him right to me," Rhodes finishes, cackling.

Clarke aims and pulls the trigger of her gun, blasting him away into pieces, before tugging on Bellamy's arm and leading him as quickly away as possible. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that?"

"Fuck you, too," he snaps. "I was only trying to help."

"Just my luck, I have to be stuck with a hero," she grumbles, hitting the elevator button rapidly.

It's silent for a beat or two, before he asks, "What'd he have to say?"

"Jesus wasn't killed because he was nailed to a cross, he died because he was stabbed with a spear and left to bleed out," she tells him, still annoyed.

"The Spear of Destiny," Bellamy supplies. "I know."

"The Bible says Cage needs divine assistance to cross over. I guess the blood of God's only son counts."

"The stains on the Spear," Bellamy says, comprehension dawning in his eyes. "But, he'd still need to find Octavia, right? And you said she's safe."

"She is," she waits a beat or two, because he's not the only one with a flair for the dramatic, "but you're not."

"Shit," he breathes.

It's then that she notices his bare neck. "Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's the pendant I gave you?"

He looks down. "I don't know. I must've, maybe -" he stops, looks up at her. "I feel a little funny."

"Shit," Clarke breathes, and tries to close the gap between them, but Bellamy is then yanked back from her, through the walls of the building. She tries to give chase, but she can't keep up, and finally, he's flying through a window, and into the night sky. She punches the wall next to her, cursing her stupidity. "Fuck."

* * *

 The bouncer at the club holds up a card, not waiting as she storms down the stairs, Jasper and Monty trailing behind her. "Mouse riding a cat," she says.

"Sorry," he says, but her fist, with her golden knuckles, is already connecting with his face, sending him flying backward, and making him hit his head on the wall behind him, knocking him out cold.

She turns to the boys behind her as she tucks the knuckles back into her pocket. " _Stay_."

"Yes, ma'am," they chorus, both looking equal parts enthralled and scared.

She storms through the empty club, pulling out her gun and firing at the door she knows Lincoln is hiding behind. He stands up as soon as she steps through the doorway. "Are you out of your _mind_?" He flexes his fingers.

She sees, and holds the gun steady on him. "Don't, Lincoln. I need to use the chair."

"I'm neutral, Clarke, in case you've forgotten. The balance needs to be maintained."

"Fuck the balance," she spits.

He opens his palms and sends her flying against the wall, causing her to drop her gun. "I can't believe you have to gall -"

"Lincoln?" a voice sounds from the back of the room. "Are you okay?"

Clarke looks at Lincoln, who's turned ashen. "I'm fine," he calls back.

Things click in her head. "Oh my God."

"Clarke -"

" _This_ is neutral?" She storms up to him and shoves him. "What bullshit!"

"Preventing Cage from crossing over _is_ maintaining the balance," he insists.

"Protecting the girl and leaving the brother to fend for himself is _preference_."

He looks stunned at that. "She swore he didn't have the sight."

"He denied the sight, and now, in his search to find his sister, whom _you_ had, his eyes have been opened." She shoves him again. "He's been taken, and that's on you."

He shakes his head, incredulous. "I didn't know."

"I don't care. I need the chair." She stops looks up at him seriously. "Please. You can consider it a last request."

His gaze softens. "You're playing with fire, Clarke."

"When have I not?" She gives him a wry grin.

He gives her a brief hug, animosity between them forgiven, like it always is. "Come on, then. Might as well get this over with."

"Do I get to meet Octavia?"

He glances at her as he leads her down the hallway. "Perhaps it's better if we wait on that."

"Sure."

"So, Cage has the brother, huh?"

"Yeah." She sighs. "It's my fault."

"Cage has been wanting to get out from under his father's shadow since his birth. I think you should be blaming him." He unlocks the door leading into his store room. "I hate to think what he'll do if he rises to power."

"Well, let's not think about that, then." She walks towards the chair and drags the tarp covering it off. "I'd forgotten how big it is."

"200 souls at Sing Sing," he reminds her, finding a bottle of vodka and opening it, taking a gulp. "When was the last time you soul surfed?"

"Doesn't matter," she says, sitting down and taking off her shoes. "It's like riding a bike."

"Yeah, except exactly not like that." He gives her a look. "So, you and the brother is what I really should've been asking about, huh?"

"It's about saving the world, Lincoln." She blushes, but figures she probably shouldn't lie to him. "But yes, also about the brother."

He shakes his head and gives her the bottle of vodka. "You need it more than me."

"Cheers." She tips the bottle in his direction before taking a swig, as Lincoln dumps water around her feet.

He cracks open a lit lightbulb and takes the liquor back. "Ready?"

"No," she barks out a laugh, "but do it anyway."

"See you soon, Clarke," he says, before electrocuting her.

And she sees it, sees the Spear in the hands of a Mexican, approaching Mount Weather, sees the demons congregating. But then the man holding the Spear turns around, just as she follows him into the pool room. He begins to strangle her, leaving her just barely able to call out, "Lincoln."

He wrenches her out of the chair and puts her on a patch of dry floor. "Any luck?"

"That's a word for it, sure." She smiles and claps him on the shoulder. "I'm going to need a lot of bullets."

He grins at her. "I can help with that."

* * *

"Okay, so, just hear us out, alright?" Jasper pleads as Monty concentrates on forging new gold bullets.

"You have my attention," Clarke says dryly. "Just don't expect a yes."

"Going in to a room where there are at least 40 demons converged is suicide, okay? And we really don't want you to die, so we think we've come up with a plan."

Too late, Clarke thinks. "Continue."

"Since demons are most vulnerable to holy water, why don't we bless the water used in their fire sprinkler system?" Jasper asks excitedly. "That way you'd just have to set it off and they'd all get sprayed!"

Clarke sighs. "I appreciate the thought, guys, but that would involve, for starters, a priest, and -"

"No, it wouldn't," Monty interrupts her, smacking Jasper to help him with the bullet press. "One of the crosses of Isteria can be used by the unordained to bless common water. It's been done to rain, Clarke!"

"And where am I supposed to get a cross of Isteria?" she challenges them. She knows where she could, but she wants to see how much research they've been doing in their quest to become what they call her 'side-kicks'.

Monty points a finger at Lincoln, who's been watching the exchange silently from the doorway. "Lincoln's supposed to have them."

"Look, Clarke," Jasper says, pushing Monty back to work, "we don't think it's a good idea for you to do this alone. No offense, but you look like you're ready to keel over at any moment, and this is  _the world_ we're talking about saving, okay? It can't rest on just one person, especially not someone who's sick."

Lincoln starts chuckling, and Clarke looks at him over her shoulder. He's grinning at the boys with bright amusement. "Take them, Clarke. You can kill them after."

Clarke sighs again, slumping against the wall. "Fine."

The boys do their weird friendship high-five, and Clarke thinks for the first time that night that maybe they'll be okay.

* * *

 

The hospital is completely deserted, which is never a good sign. Clarke walks the hallways with growing trepidation, every step that brings her closer to the fork in the building which will split her and the boys up making her second guess herself more and more.

They're silent, too, for once, until they finally reach the corridor where she'll take a right and they'll take a left. There's garbled whispering, so Jasper asks quietly, "What  _is_ that?"

"Hellspeak," Clarke answers, "the language of the damned." She turns to them. "You guys know what to do?"

Jasper looks down the hallway while Monty keeps his gaze steady on her. "We'll be fine."

Clarke gives him a small smile, "Sure," and watches them walk away, before heading to the antechamber to the pool where she saw all the demons gathered. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself, before kicking open the doors. The room is chock-full of demons, all of whom swivel around to stare at her. She smiles. "Hi, my name's Clarke. Clarke Griffin. Some of you may have heard of me." She spots a metal chair and table close to where she's standing, so she walks over. The demons stay motionless, watching. "I am here to inform you that you are all in violation of the balance." She climbs on top of the table, sees the smoke detecter right above her. "Leave immediately, or I will deport you." She looks around the room as she fishes her lighter out of her pocket. Nobody moves, so she shrugs, brings the flame to life on her lighter. "Have it your way, then. Go to hell." She then holds the lighter above her head, and watches in satisfaction as it begins to rain.

The demons don't understand at first, until their flesh begins to burn. Their shrieks of pain fill the room, and Clarke takes the moment of confusion to jump down off the table, and begin firing.

It's easier than it should be, deporting the demons, bullet after bullet hitting its mark. Clarke almost laughs with how little effort she has to put into it. Until her gun clicks, out of bullets, and the one demon left was the biggest in the building, before everyone else got sent back to hell. She's scrambling for her knuckles, and trying to come up with a backup plan right as he lunges for her, before exploding into ash before her face.

She turns around, and sees Monty putting down his shotgun, Jasper standing behind him with matching determined faces. "We thought you could use some more help," Monty explains.

"Thanks," Clarke says, before looking around the room. It's empty, so she moves to the next set of doors. "Ready?"

The boys move closer before nodding. She kicks on the handles, feels them give way immediately. The lights went off when the water came on, so she pulls out a flashlight and scans the quiet room. There, in the middle of the pool, is a face-down body. It has dark curly hair, and tanned skin, so she scrambles to it, and jumps in the pool to grab it closer to her.

"Uh, Clarke?" Jasper asks, just as she turns it over.

It's the man from the vision, the one who was carrying the spear. The sound of water bubbling snaps her to attention, and she turns just in time to see Bellamy rise from the water. However, his face doesn't belong to him anymore, blue eyes replacing brown, so she swings her gun back up, even though it's empty, hoping to intimidate who she now guesses is Cage. It doesn't work. "Shit," she curses, before dropping her gun into the pool, grabbing Bellamy's face, and chanting the exorcism rites. Bellamy wraps his hands around her throat like it's nothing, and pushes her down under the water without much effort.

She's convinced she's going to die, because she knows she can't physically be a match for the Devil's son. Her fingers are digging into his hands and he's not even flinching. Just as she's about given up, however, Bellamy is yanked back, leaving Clarke free to claw her way to the surface.

When she's finally wiped away the water from her eyes, she sees Monty and Jasper in the pool, too, struggling to get Bellamy, who they have in a pretty impressive hold, up the steps onto dry land. She rushes over to help them and, together, they manage to pin him to the tile. Jasper holds his feet, and Monty his hands, while Clarke straddles his chest and grips his face with her hands once more, starting the exorcism rites again. Bellamy laughs a demonic laugh, before gasping and coughing. Clarke watches his eyes return to normal, and sags with relief.

"Clarke," he gasps.

"Bellamy," she smiles at him and feels herself start to tear up, "you're back."

"I -" He breaks off, however, and his face goes funny, before he starts gasping.

Clarke's heart sinks, even though she should've known it was too good to be true, and scrambles off of him once she feels his chest moving unnaturally. There's something moving in his stomach, so Clarke rucks up the shirt from where it was tucked into his waistband. Cage's face and hands are swimming around. Jasper gags, but other than that he and Monty stay still while Clarke starts praying again, hands hovering over Bellamy's waist.

"Get it out, get it out," he moans, sounding pained and afraid. His body begins shaking, and it's all Monty and Jasper can do to hold on. Clarke begins to sag with exhaustion, and feels how hopeless this is.

Monty starts praying, however, and so does Jasper, snapping Clarke out of her funk and causing her to surge forward again with renewed energy. Bellamy's body finally stills, his stomach returning to normal, and he slips into unconsciousness.

Clarke sits back on her heels, which seems to be some sort of signal for Monty and Jasper to release Bellamy as well. Immediately Jasper rushes over to the pool, and begins to vomit into it. Monty rushes after him, and rubs his back, collapsing next to him as his stomach contents are emptied.

"Happens to everyone their first time," Clarke says with a smile. "It's the sulfur."

"So not too bad?" Monty asks over his shoulder.

"Not too bad at all," Clarke agrees, before Monty's eyes widen in fear, and he's being pulled upwards before she can even react. Jasper grabs his hand as he flies by, but only manages to get himself flying, too. They hit the ceiling and Clarke screams. They hit the pool water and sink to the ground. She dives in after them, pulls them up with a herculean effort. Panting, she keeps their heads above water and walks them to the steps, where she sits them. Their eyes are closed, and Jasper's head is bleeding badly. "Wake up!" she pleads, gripping the fronts of their shirts in her hands. "Please, wake up!"

But they don't, so Clarke becomes filled with fury instead. She drags herself out of the pool, and rolls her sleeves up past her elbows, so her forearm tattoos are visible. She's breathing heavily, and is feeling lightheaded, but this is her last shot, so she has to try it. She pulls her forearms together, shouting, "Into the light, I command thee!" The force of it knocks her to her knees, but she tries again. "Into the light, I command thee!"

This time, she can feel it working and grunts as all the shadows are removed from the room. Suddenly, she's knocked flat on her ass, and Diana is standing on her chest, foot on her neck. "Your ego is astounding, did you know that?"

"Diana," Clarke groans, hands coming up to grip the angel's calf. "I should've known. 'And the wicked shall inherit the earth'."

Diana uses her foot to force Clarke's face to the ground. "You judging me now, Clarke? How interesting."

"I don't know, betrayal, murder, genocide? I don't have to try very hard to see where this is going," she grunts, using her grip on Diana's calf to try and give her some room to breathe.

"I'm just trying to help mankind find its way to all that was intended for it."

"By handing the earth over to the son of the Devil?" Clarke is incredulous. She figured Diana was crazy, but this is  _insane_. "You realize that makes zero sense, right?"

Diana crouches down so she can grip Clarke's face with her hands. "You're handed this precious gift, right? The earth and everything on it. On top of that, God grants you redemption for each and every one of the awful deeds you commit every single day." Diana sits of Clarke's chest to get more comfortable, which causes Clarke to start wheezing. Diana doesn't care, though, and continues, "I mean, murderers, rapists, child molesters. It doesn't matter! All you have to do is repent, and you're forgiven." She chuckles. "In all the worlds, in all the universes, this is something unique to man. And," she pauses squeezes Clarke's face much harder than she has to, "it's not fair. So, if my God loves you so," she begins to whisper, "I'll make you worthy of His love. I've been watching you for a long, long time, and it's only ever in the face of horror that you find the sides of you worthy of this love. So, I'll bring you horror, pain, whatever it takes, for you to rise above it." She stands up, and drags Clarke to her feet. "Those of you who survive this new earth? _They'll_ be truly worthy."

Clarke is still panting, but only a little, when she says, "Diana, you're fucking crazy."

Diana just beams. "The road to salvation begins tonight, right here, right now," she tells Clarke, before blowing enough wind to throw her across both rooms, and against the first set of doors she kicked in to get to the antechamber. She feels a few ribs break and hears the doors to the pool room slam shut, and her heart leaves with the rest of it. She blew it, and now Monty and Jasper are dead, as well as Bellamy. Raven will never walk properly again, but at least she's still alive. If Cage wins, however, probably not for long. She looks up at the ceiling, resorting to the last thing that has any chance of working. "Hey, God, it's me." She clears her throat. "Look, I know we haven't had the best relationship, and you pretty much hate me, but," she sighs, "I could use a little help here. Please."

When nothing seems to happen, she sags back down to the floor, tears welling up in her eyes. She's out of options and time, until she sees the big shard of glass lying inches from her nose. She picks it up, and struggles to sit upright properly. She has to prop herself up against the doors, but figures it counts, so she removes her dad's old watch, and slices her wrists, as hard and as deep as she can, willing this crazy idea to work.

Her eyes slip shut as she feels the blood leave her body, and she's convinced it hasn't worked, until she hears the sizzling. Her eyes open blearily, and she sees the Devil, Dante, in front of her. He pulls out a chair, and sits so close to her that she could probably kick him, if she had any feeling left in her lower legs. "Hello, Clarke."

"What took you so long?" she asks tiredly.

"Well, I had to get dressed up." He smiles at her, and it makes her skin crawl. "You're the one soul I would come up here to collect myself."

"So I've heard." Clarke sighs as she pulls out a cigarette. "Do you mind? Last moment on earth, you know how it is."

"Go right ahead." He adjusts himself in his seat. "I've got time."

She tries to light her cigarette, but her fingers won't work. "Hey, Dante, a little help?"

"Sure, sure." He's still smiling. "Looks like you cut your tendons there. Happens when you go too deep."

He lights the cigarette, and she takes a puff. "Yeah, I've heard."

He lets her smoke in peace for a few moments, before tilting his head to the side. "You know, I never thought you were one for making the same mistake twice." When she doesn't say anything, his eyes narrow, and his smile drops. "You didn't, did you?"

Clarke lowers her cigarette. "So how's the kid?"

"He's fine, you know, like every other kid I imagine."

"Sure," she says, with a smile of her own. "He's in the other room, you know."

"Takes after his father."

"With Diana."

"Well, boys will be boys."

Clarke's smile widens. "With the Spear of Destiny."

Dante's face hardens. "You think that's funny, Clarke? That's in poor taste."

"Go check," she offers. "I'm not going anywhere."

He looks her over carefully, before getting up, and walking to the pool room. Clarke smokes, unable to see or hear anything as the Devil undoubtedly breaks up whatever love-fest Diana and Cage have going on. She can only hope that Bellamy will survive it.

The room shifts, however, and Clarke feels a vacuum of power in the next room, and hear wind rushing past her. There's a splash, and then silence, before Dante comes back. She's barely hanging on to consciousness at this point, but still has enough energy to say, "So?"

"I assume you want something now," Dante says, detached. "An extension?"

Clarke closes her eyes, and thinks. She _could_ live, but - "The two boys in the room," she tries to point in the general direction, "are they still alive?"

Dante tilts his head. "Barely. A few more seconds and they're gone."

"Would you ensure they live?" Clarke closes her eyes. "They don't deserve this."

"Giving up your life for theirs?" Dante looks surprised. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Well, you know me," she says with a smile, finishing her cigarette, "always full of surprises."

Dante tsks. "There, done." He reaches down and grabs Clarke's hand. "Now, time to go, Clarke."

"Sure." She nods, and lets herself be dragged along. Until she's not moving, anymore. Dante is tugging on her arm, but she's sinking deeper and deeper into the floor with every try he makes. She begins to smile when she feels warm light surrounding her. Dante says something, but she's not paying attention. She flips him off for good measure, until he grabs her.

"No!" he shouts, ripping open her shirt. "You  _will_ live, Clarke Griffin." He sticks his fingers into her lungs, and rips out the black tar coating the inside. "I'm going to give you the chance to  _prove_ you belong in hell." He drops her, and repeats, "You will live," before disappearing.

Once she hits the floor, she takes a deep breath, deeper than she's been able to in years, and finds herself filled with strength. She slowly stands up and checks her wrists, only to find them healed, too. She stands there, marveling at her healed body, until she hears movement in the other room. That snaps her out of whatever trance she was in, and she rushes to see Monty and Jasper gripping each other, crying, and Bellamy sitting up. She walks over to him and crouches. "How you feeling?"

"Good," he says with a warm smile. "Thank you."

She shrugs, giving him a small smile of her own. "No problem."

The boys spot her then, and rush over, tackling her in a hug. "Clarke!" Jasper cries.

She rubs their backs soothingly. "It's okay. Everyone somehow managed to stay alive."

"Thank God," Bellamy says, meeting her gaze over Monty's head.

Clarke laughs a little. "Yeah," she says, and completely means it.

Coughing from the pool interrupts the moment, however, and all four of them look over to see Diana standing up in the pool, her wings burned off. Clarke suddenly understands the power vacuum she felt. So she stands, and steps closer to the edge of the pool. "You got off easy, Diana, I hope you realize that."

Diana looks sullen for a moment, before brightening up. "Are you thinking about revenge right now?" When Clarke doesn't say anything, she grins, and wades towards the steps, carrying Clarke's gun. "You should do it! End my life. You'll feel better, trust me." She places the gun in Clarke's hand.

"I know." She aims it, before punching Diana in the face. The ex-angel recoils, blood dripping from her mouth. "It's called pain. Get used to it."

When Clarke turns around, Bellamy is smiling at her, as are Jasper and Monty. Bellamy reaches for her hand, and intertwines their fingers. "Come on, let's go home."

"Home," Clarke sighs, and leans into him as they walk away, "that sounds nice."

* * *

 

"Remember," Clarke says sternly, "don't get distracted. Keep your eyes on me, it'll help."

Bellamy grins, his hand finding hers. "Trust me, that won't be a problem."

She blushes. "You know, Bellamy, I'm, well, I'm sort of a mess -"

"- really, hadn't noticed," he interrupts, dry.

She swats him on the chest. "Shut up. But, I really like you, and, I know I have to get my life in order, but -"

This time, it's his lips against hers that cut her off, wiping everything from her mind as she tries to remember how to respond. When he drags his teeth along her lower lip, however, she moans and throws her arms around his neck, letting him lick into her mouth. His arms band around her waist, pressing her against him, and she swears she could melt.

"You gonna sell that on Pay-Per-View?" Raven heckles them, causing them to spring apart. She grins at their guilty faces. "Hi. For the record, I'm all for this happening," she says as she gestures between them, "but I'm pretty sure we've got something else to do right now."

"Right, you're right." Clarke clears her throat, trying to get rid of her blush. "Want to lead the way?"

As Raven walks down the stairs without their help, thanks to the sleek brace she was able to build herself, Bellamy catches her hand and intertwines their fingers. "For the record, I'm all for this, too," he tells her quietly.

She's still grinning as she tells the bouncer, "Three frogs dancing."

They're ushered in quickly, Raven stopping at the bar. "Come find me when you're done!" she calls, flagging down the bartender.

Clarke gives her a smile as she and Bellamy continue their way to the back where she knocks on the brand new door. It opens automatically, so they step into the space. "Hey, Lincoln."

"Good to see you, Clarke." The man in question sweeps her up into a hug.

"You, too," she tells him. "This is Bellamy."

"Heard you were taking care of my sister." A muscle in Bellamy's jaw moves. He hadn't been the happiest when he found out where Octavia was, but at least she was safe.

"I can take care of myself, big brother," a new voice answers, the beautiful girl from the security tapes stepping into the room. "Hi, Bell!"

"O!" He rushes forward and wraps his arms around her, picking her up as she buries her face into his neck.

Lincoln chuckles as he walks to his private bar, attempting to give the siblings some privacy. "So, you saved the world."

Clarke shrugs with a smile. "I did what had to be done."

"And you're cancer-free?"

She accepts the rum and coke he hands her. "Gift from the Devil himself."

"And everyone's alive?"

"I guess I'm what they call a hero," she laughs before she knocks back the drink.

He smiles at her, too. "Guess so, since you got the boy and everything to prove it." He holds out his own drink to her. "Cheers to the world not ending."

Warmth blooms in her chest as she clinks her glass with his. "Cheers."

**Author's Note:**

> Real talk rn this is probably the longest one-shot I've ever written? Sorry if it sucked and/or took too much from the movie I just really love that movie and also was disappointed by the lack of romantic closure so ta-da! Wish fulfillment in real life.
> 
> I know I was gonna publish another asshole cat Murphy fic but then they put Constantine on Netflix and I was lost. Anyway happy new year!
> 
> BTW Rhodes is a real character in the books so shout out to him for being an asshole I could borrow.


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